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February 22, 2008

The AC Guy

My childhood was not your normal, typical childhood. As most kids were chumming around with others, I ended up spending most of my time at home, or with my dad or uncles. Interestingly enough, I went a number of times with my dad to his favorite hangout; a friend of his operated a gas station that was frequented by truckers. So, by the age of 13, I had been exposed to every known word in the book, along with stealing some glances at the magazines that they had there. Seemed like some of them used used “fuck” for every other word coming out of their mouths. Needless to say, this left me with an idle curiosity of women as a whole.

As I grew older, my dad started taking me on jobs with him; he ran an air conditioning business on the side. One of his clients was the apartment complex next to the high school I was going to. I’d go with him on these jobs, helping him out with the ladders, installing Freon, swapping out compressors, etc. Occasionally, we’d have to go into the apartments to make sure that the air conditioner would kick on and cool down the apartments.

Well, one day there was a problem with the air conditioner in apartment #2301. Needless to say, since it was a saturday, I went with dad to help him. We’d went to the apartment manager’s office to get the work order, and then proceeded to the apartment. When we got there, we found that there was a leak on the roof, and that it would require only a small soldering job, along with filling up the unit with more Freon. After doing this, we went down to the apartment itself, and knocked on the door. A woman, I’d say in her late twenties, answered the door. We told her that we had worked on the air conditioner, and wanted to check to make sure that it was cooling her apartment. She invited us in, and let us go to the thermostat. My dad started to play with the controls, as I just scanned my eyes around the room. She seemed to be into computers, and music (which was my pastime; I was programming in three different languages, and enjoyed computer music/synthesizers). We started to get into a conversation, and then wouldn’t you know — dad said all looked okay and that we should go. As we were leaving, the girl gave me a slip of paper. Not thinking anything about it, I put it into my pocket.

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October 6, 2007

A Dancer’s Fantasy

My name is ‘Show Girl.’ I’m 23 years old, 5′5″ tall, 115 pounds, and my measurements are 36C-21-34. I’m a natural blonde, with blue eyes and I’m into sexy talking and sexy ideas.

Actually, MY fantasy is to be on a stage with a lot of people watching me dance naked. In my fantasy, the guys hoot and holler, making very lewd and suggestive remarks about what they’d like to do to me in bed. I dance alone for a while, shaking my tits in their faces, or bending over in front of them close enough for them to try to lick my pussy. They all chicken out at the last minute though, and this makes be bolder and hotter the longer I dance.

I have in mind one of those semi-round stages, with a short, straight runway straight out from the stage. I start out dressed in a skirt and blouse, and quickly lose my clothes to stand completely nude before everyone.

While I’m dancing, my pussy gets wetter and wetter, and I feel my pussy cream mixing with the sweat that covers me from dancing under the hot lights. Faces are blurred beyond the edge of the stage, but the men are all intent on checking out my body. As I dance, I get more and more suggestive about what I want. I’ll lay on my back with my legs spread and rock my hips as though I was being fucked hard and fast. Then I roll over and spread my legs and thrust back, showing everyone my wet pussy and sexy ass. This I do with a nice looking guy of about 27 sitting at the edge of the stage. I shove my ass and cunt almost in his face several times. When I get up and dance by him, I can see a thick bulge in his lap, and I know he’s hot for me.

Finally, I see a pretty woman about my age sitting at the edge of the runway with her boyfriend across the table from her. I dance down towards her and lay on my stomach, pressing my large breasts against the floor. I look her in the eye and run my tongue across my lips sensuously, then flick my tongue up and down, showing her I’d like to eat her pussy too. To my surprise, she gives me an air-kiss, and runs her tongue around her lips too.

Excited, I sit up and spread my legs wide, with my ass at the edge of the stage, gyrating my hips lewdly right in front of her. I’m daring her to show me. Then she leans forward, and I hear the crowd hush. Her tongue lightly licks my soaking pussy, and she runs it over my clit, taking me closer to a climax. She leans back and fingers my vagina, and then licks my cream from her fingers, smiling up at me.

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October 4, 2007

Against the Odds

story categories: sex stories, fantasies, sci-fi-spec-fic, fetishes

Walking along the dark street, I thought for a moment to the almost daily occurrences that seemed to dominate the news. Numerous bodies had been found in the recent weeks. Bodies savaged physically, and sexually. Bodies of mostly women, but a male or two as well. Grinning to myself I walked on, shrugging my shoulders and pushing my hands deeper into the pockets of my overcoat. The tabloids were shouting about rampant and wolfmen. Right. Even though the reputable papers did mention, from time to time, the disturbing fact that the victims did seem to be a bit on the anemic side, the whole thing seemed pretty outrageous. Here at the beginning of the 21st century, old ghost stories were dominating the papers. Chuckling lightly to myself, I turned and started across the street, heading toward the little bar that I usually frequented.

As I walked in, swinging my coat off my shoulders and hanging it on ‘my’ coat hook, the bartender gave me a nod. As I reached my stool, I found a draft waiting for me, and I casually tossed back a swallow, looking around the bar. The TV was on, over the end of the bar, and the late news was on, more jabbering about yet another body found just after nightfall today. Pity, I thought to myself. “It’s your buddy at work again, Slade,” the bartender jibed toward me.

“Can’t you put some other trash on Tom? Don’t you get sick of this shit?” pushing my empty mug toward him, he picked it up, and soon, I found it back before me.

“You know I only put it on to annoy you, Slade,” he grinned broadly at me and went to the other end of the bar, taking a drink to an old man sitting there. He always bugged me about this shit, knowing how I felt about sensationalism. We had talked often of how these losers would pull some cheap stunt, grab some publicity, and get credit for being so strange. And a vampire impersonator certainly had the attention of the city now. “You know they found that gal,” he gestured toward the screen which showed a body being carted into a waiting ambulance, face covered, “about a mile from here?” He grinned at me, and I just shrugged. No sense feeding his mirth.

“Yeah? You’re hitting them close to home, eh?” He laughed as I ducked the wet bartowel that soared toward me. Eventually, thankfully, the news changed to more mundane matters, and I watched silently as one little tragedy after another was shown. Pity.

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September 30, 2007

Dreaming of a Ghost with Auburn Hair

story categories: sex stories, dreams, fantasies, romance

Well, today is another gray and rainy day in this town. Kind of makes you think that life is nothing but a succession of shadows and gloom, dark clouds and chilly winds, interspersed with the promise of a little sunshine now and then to maintain enough of a fiction so everyone keeps going. Gray and cold. Old and gray. Wet and chilly. That’s how the day looks. That’s how I feel. That’s what this day makes me feel, as if I’m immersed in reality.

Good thing that I still can dream and fly. And it’s always harder not to wander away. To warmer places. To sunnier places. To places in which I can be whoever I dream of being. To places where I can meet the woman I want at will.

If I look through the window I can see her walking. Funny thing. I haven’t seen her face, ever, and yet here she is: smiling, saying nice things in a voice that’s caressing me, full of sweet overtones.

“Hi. How are you? You look as if you need a break. Would you like to have a cup of coffee with me? Well, we can go to this coffee shop, close to my place. So, what are we waiting for? Let’s go”

And all of a sudden, we are neither in this time, nor in this town. We’re somewhere in the middle of a dream, looking at each other, sipping cappuccino and talking of our lives. We’re frozen in time. Words coming and going without a finish line. Words coming and going, dancing with the music of our eyes, following the rhythm of a more intimate connection. Here we are: the first man and the first woman, repeated ad infinitum. The first blood and the first heartbeat. Always the same and yet always new.

Her face is changing with the slow movement of the moon. Her words are wrapping me with the laces of rainbow. Her eyelashes are hypnotic. Her mouth is more than tempting and this is not a coffee place, this is a forest and she’s casting her spell. I look but I want to see. I see but I want to dream. I dream but I want to have. Her words are falling and they sweep me.

I’ve played the game of seduction many times, but every new look, every promise of flesh anew, every new whisper of the garden of wantonness washes out my old sins. It’s me, fresh, again. It’s my skin without memories, without owners, without repeats. I’m a virgin one more time.

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August 21, 2007

Ariel’s Continuing Education

It had been one week since Ariel had been introduced to the role Eric wanted her to play, below, in the dungeon below the royal bedroom. And she had waited eagerly. Eric had not inclined or willing to take her there a second time. She had insisted on wearing her collar for long periods of time, even walking on the beach near the castle wearing it. She had not seen Flounder, but she had seen Sebastian. She had thought he might be angry at her, perhaps hold her in lower esteem, but he seemed as friendly as ever. Grimbsy as well had been his usual friendly but reserved self, never letting on from his behavior that he had seen her bound and kneeling on the floor of Eric’s dungeon. Only the leather collar which she wore constantly told her that the scene in the dungeon had ever happened at all.

Eric was in the bedroom when she got back from her walk along the beach. She wondered why she had not seen Flounder, nor her father, nor in fact anyone who had not been in some way involved with the events in the dungeon. He was sitting on a velvet chair in the bedroom, smiling in the same way he had smiled at her down below.

“Morning,” he said, and she recognized the tone in his voice. Yes, it was time.

“It’s good that you already have your collar on,” he said. Ariel’s hand crept to the leather collar around her neck, playing briefly with the ring embedded in the front of it. He arose, embraced her, and took her hands. As he kissed her she felt him secure cold metal cuffs around her wrists, and when he broke the kiss and moved away from her, her wrists were firmly but comfortably locked together.

He snapped a leash onto the front ring of Ariel’s collar. Then he opened the hidden door within the royal bedchamber and led her down into the dungeon. The door at the bottom slammed shut and locked. Ariel jumped at the sound.

“Nervous, are you?”

Ariel bowed her head. She had tried to think about what he would want from her, and physical signs of submission seemed to be a good idea.

“Somewhat, Master,” she said, her clear alto voice the same one that had serenaded him on the beach two weeks ago. She wondered what he was going to do with her. She had enjoyed the floating experience of last week, but had no desire to allow Sebastian the crab to punish her in order to get to it. Her nipples were still sore from the ordeal the crab had inflicted on her as punishment for the chaotic three days before her marriage to Eric.

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